Francis had been back for less than an hour and was already warned of his mother's imprisonment and scheduled death. To say he was furious was an understatement; in fact his rage was multiplied and aimed at more than one person in the castle, beginning with Mary. He couldn't help but want to throttle her, strangle her for her choices, and most of all for being so foolish in making decisions affecting both of their lives. His heavy and quick footsteps were drawing near to her chambers, and he mentally prepared himself to rip her apart.

Mary was sitting quietly talking to Bash of Clarissa's reveal when her heavy wooden door was flung open, snapping back against the walls. She jumped and Bash rose clenching the top of his sword. And then she felt the breath leave her body; it was Francis and his eyes were wild, unlike any other she had seen before, even in the moment in the dungeons when he promised he would never forgive her. She could feel the heat of his anger filling the room.

"Francis." Bash started, as he took a few steps toward his brother.

"Leave." Francis commanded. Bash looked at his brother calmly.

"Francis, don't command me." Bash responded, stepping in front of Mary. But the sneer on Francis was one Bash had not remembered ever being exposed to from his loving little brother. Mary stood, her hands clutched together at her abdomen, as Francis advanced toward Bash.

"Did you forget?" Francis angrily shot back. "Until your legitimization is complete, I am still the Dauphin! I still will command who I want, and at this moment you are MY subject, not Mary's." Francis didn't bother to look at Mary. Bash nodded. "I could have you killed long before you are even legitimized, do I make myself clear?" Francis questioned. Sebastian stood straight and nodded once at his brother. "Get out." Francis ordered sternly. "Don't come back." Francis looked over at Mary. "Your fiancée will be fine." He said his voice dripping with repulsion and contempt for both of them. Mary couldn't meet his eyes, and she felt her heart pound, adrenaline surging. A piece of her was frightened of Francis and his intensity. She had never experienced this wrath before. Usually Francis was logical, rational, not likely to act on whim or flare of temper. But tonight, it was clear to Mary this was a different man. Sebastian glanced back at Mary who nodded to reassure him of her safety. He left quietly, and Francis began to pace around the room. Mary cleared her throat.

"What did you want Francis?" She asked strongly. He chuckled sarcastically.

"My life. The one you took from me. Is that possible?" He asked bearing his fury into her. She stepped back.

"Francis – "

"You sentenced my mother to death!" He shouted.

"She tried to kill me! What did you expect me to do? I would have died! Am I not allowed to avenge those who plot against me?" She argued raising her own voice. She felt her own anger begin to bubble up inside of her, her fists clenching at her sides.

"Why Mary? Why did she attempt to kill you? Have you forgotten? Or have you been so lustily preoccupied with my bastard brother?" He countered. "She is my mother! Her goal is to protect me, and my line, her heirs. Would you not do the same for your own child?" Francis inquired. "Our child?" He asked lowering his voice. Mary looked away. Her hands somehow found her abdomen again.

"We don't have a child Francis." She said softly. Suddenly his hands were on her, grasping her arms tightly, forcing him to see his eyes.

"You are right, you are right. But if you had a child, would you not sacrifice everything for that child?" He begged. He knew her answer before she had the ability to choke out the yes. For him, the answer need not come because her eyes told him everything. His hands let go of her arms, and he turned away. "And now this Clarissa, she is my half-sister, is she not?" Francis asked.

"Yes." Mary responded.

"So she is the first born of my mother." He added. "She is the one who will die because of you, is that not the prophecy?" Mary's eyes widened. "Must you really take away my crown? My birthright? You now know I am safe." He said shaking his head, raising his hands in frustration. "I have been sick over this, trying so desperately to forget you." His voice had not softened, it was straining, begging for something she knew. She couldn't read him; his back was still to her. But she saw his shoulders slump and his body begin to relax from the anger he brought with him. He turned to her. "I don't know of your relationship with my brother," He closed his eyes for moment wishing there was no relationship. "For all I am aware, you love him." Mary took a step toward him to begin to speak, but he held his hand up. "But if there is no prophecy, and my death will not be your cause, then commit to the promises you made to me once." She saw his eyes, they were no longer hard, black from anger, but now their usual soft blue. They were begging her. "For the sake of France, for the sake of my brothers." He pleaded.

"And your mother?" She asked.

"She won't harm you if you are not a threat to me. You once said she should not pay for her actions since they were done out of love, but you make her pay." He shook his head. "Mary, my heart is yours, it always was. My country, for the first time in my life I put it second to you." He paused. "What you have done is grievous to my heart; if you don't kill me physically, you will through this act, through marrying him. Even if you" He couldn't bear to say the words, but forced them out anyway. "Even if you love him, you must follow your duty to marry the heir to the throne of France, the rightful heir." Francis's sad look was what she saw when he left her chambers.

Mary did not sleep at all that night. Her mind reeled from Francis to Bash, Scotland, and her duty to her own crown. She considered each argument, each man's feelings. If she was to marry Bash, she knew she would be happy; she had already committed herself to him. It wasn't because she no longer loved Francis, but rather for practicality. Not marrying Bash, would hurt him. He had confessed that he had always cared for her, and she was almost sure that he now loved her. The more she saw of him, the more she knew he would not make the best king. His diplomacy would not be that of his father or Francis, and it worried her. However, is intensity to protect her and loyalty to her was remarkable, and something she valued greatly.

As for Francis, in the deepest corner of her heart she loved him. Mary had been suppressing those feelings since the moment she had decided to leave the castle. If her love would bring Francis any harm, than she did not want to embrace it. Now he was safe from her. Should she marry him to protect the line, the one appointed by God? Or should she continue with Bash? She paced her room, considering both sides, considering her choices. With either one there were consequences. The deepest question of all was whether Francis would truly forgive her. She couldn't live with herself if he never did. When she finally did sleep, in the early hours of the morning, she knew her decision. For the first time her heart and mind had joined in agreement with each other. She would have to hope and pray for Francis to forgive her in time, to allow his pain to subside, and to begin to trust her again. When she chose him, she hoped he would know it was because deep in her heart, her love was for him, and that their countries both depended on their leadership. Together they would rule, hopefully side by side not only in a political marriage, but also in a loving one.